


like electricity

by cupcakeL



Category: Billy Elliot (2000), One Direction (Band)
Genre: 80's Music, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, M/M, Manchester City, Mentions of dementia and light alcohol abuse, Oblivious Louis Tomlinson, Period-Typical Homophobia, Swearing, billy elliot au, loads of swearing bc miner kids in the 80s, musical AU, the fic is set during the miners strike 1984/85, they drink one fucking sip each, they keep using the word poof for gay bc its the 1980s and theyre like 12 and dont know any better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeL/pseuds/cupcakeL
Summary: “We’re doing pliés. You all know the exercise. Demi plié, demi — arms in second, grad plié with port de bras down then first and back in second, relevé arm in open fifth, tendu second and again. Lizzie mind your turn out, Tessa soft arms, Emma shoulders and smile! Now in fifth and in the end a relevé hold.”Louis could hear the words and he saw the others immediately react to them but he neither understood the connection between the movements and the words nor how to do them himself.He tried to imitate the girl who stood in front of him but he was always two movements behind. In the end of the exercise, when he tried to stand on his toes without holding onto the bar, he felt like this had been a terrible idea.Or the one where a 12-year-old Louis Tomlinson, an orphaned coal miner's son in Northern England during the strikes of 1984/85, stumbles upon a ballet class during his weekly football training. Soon he finds himself in dance, demonstrating the kind of raw talent seldom seen by the class' exacting instructor, Madame Malik, who starts pushing him towards making use of his abilities while Louis struggles with feelings he doesn’t quite understand.





	like electricity

**Author's Note:**

> I made a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/jeanmkelter/playlist/1go3uTFBmWzrN4s5Oqv9pi?si=g3XNcmGmS2aTqNxs9VMwvA) for this fic while the lovely Liv betaed for me. thank u loov ur the best  
> and want to thank Sonja and Nix for hosting this fic fest bc i fucking love musicals and hell yeah we need more musical aus
> 
> Also this obviously a Billy Elliot AU so i own neither the characters nor the plot. I dont even own half the dialogue bc its just lyrics from the songs. I changed a few things but its still basically the same.

_Take me up, and hold me gently. Raise me up, and hold me high._

_Through the night, under darkness. Will come a day, when we will fly._

_And although, we've been rejected. And although, we've been outcast._

_We will find a new tomorrow, when we come to rest at last._

_And we will stand there proudly, and we will never, walk alone._

_And we, will be returned back to our home._

_And the stars look down at their reflection,_

_and the stars look down and there's a light_

_when the stars look down and see the justice, and the right._

_And the stars look down and see the struggle,_

_and the stars look down at all the pain._

_And the stars will lead to where light shines again._

_Where we'll stand as one, beneath the sun. One, beneath the sun._

_~*~_

It was loud in the cafeteria. Their table was the only quiet one. Well, not exactly their table, but their corner of the table, Louis thought, while the girls broke into hysterical laughter. Debbie was the loudest. Debbie was always the loudest, the prettiest and the bitchiest.

Louis looked at where she was plastered to his side. He wasn’t exactly sure how they got together or why they even were together but when he and Liam had become co captains of the football team after the summer holidays, she’d come to them after practice and asked which one of them would be her boyfriend.

Louis, who had not been paying attention, had only realised that she was talking to him and Liam when he had her in his lap. He had given Liam, who was still pointing at him, a look that he hoped expressed his feeling of betrayal.

Now he’d been stuck with her for almost two weeks, and apparently he didn’t get a say in anything concerning their so-called relationship.

Louis let his gaze wander. On the other side of the cafeteria a group of girls, all of them either dressed in light pink and beige tones or dark black and reds, sat on a table giggling; in the middle was one boy also dressed completely in black. It took Louis a second to recognise him because the boy’s face was just so pretty.

Suddenly a group of guys appeared behind the boy, but before they could do anything to him, the group of girls seemed to move as one until the boy was hidden in their midst.

Louis looks away. He sees his new next door neighbour Niall sitting alone, a Walkman on the table before him, headphones on.

Behind Niall a group of girls and boys were obviously debating whether to sit down next to him or not.

Louis finally sees Harry walk towards them. There has never been a person more concentrated on carrying a single tray of food through a cafeteria, Louis thinks, though he finds it strangely endearing.

Harry puts his tray down in front of Louis and lets himself drop into the chair.

Debbie glares at him from her place half in Louis’ lap.

“What is baby brains doing here?” she asked Louis while looking at Harry, her nose wrinkled.

Louis could see Harry starting to blush and he knew his friend was about to get up and leave.

“Could you be a love and not be mean to Harry? He might’ve skipped a class because he’s real smart, but he’s also my best friend,” he said, his tone icy.

Harry was visibly relaxing and Louis suddenly felt a lot like just grabbing his best friend and leaving.

He was just about to open his mouth and suggest something like that when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Tommo, am I going to see you at footie later?” Liam asked, oozing happiness.

Louis just gave him a quick nod to which Liam reacted with another back pat. He then high fived Harry on the way by and completely ignored that Debbie had waved at him.

It was very quiet at their table for a few seconds before Debbie's friends started their idle chit chatting again. Their voices sounded a bit higher their laughter a bit more fake but both was hard to tell with them because they always sounded fake anyways.

For a while Harry and Louis just sat there listening to the sounds around them, occasionally communicating via eye contact. Then Louis remembered something.

“Ah! Toni is out on strike again tonight or summat...” he said and could basically hear Debbie thinking about coming over so he tried to keep his eyes on Harry and actively ignored her pressing closer to him.

“Do you know why they’re on strike like?” Harry mumbled and didn’t lift his gaze up from his salad, if the green goo on his plate even deserved to be called that term.

“It’s the dumb Maggie Thatcher, innit?” Louis said and willed Harry mentally to look up at him.

“Are you sure you’re not going to come to footie practice today?” he asked when Harry finally lifted his gaze.

Harry just shook his head and looked back down at his ‘food’.

“Am I fuck? It’s a load of bollocks,” he said, and Louis sighed. They’ve had this argument before. More than once.

“No, it’s not.” Louis gave Debbie a little shove and leaned forward so that he was almost in Harry’s personal space.

“It’s a load of shite, runnin’ behind one pathetic ball. I don’t know why you bother,” Harry said, leaning closer too. Their noses were now centimeters from each other. They held eye contact until Louis leaned back.

“Anyways, if you’d come we could cook for tonight at my place afterwards,” Louis all but whispered so Debbie wouldn’t hear it, and Harry’s face immediately lit up.

Louis could see the wheels in his head turning, probably already planning an elaborate meal for dinner.

“I’m only taking you if you promise not to flirt with my nana. Again,” he said, trying to look stern. He looked like he was about to have a laughing fit.

_~*~_

“Hold on for a second, lads! I need to go for a wee!” Louis yelled while jogging towards their coach. “Can I step out? I’ll be back in a minute.” Coach just nodded at him and gestured at someone else to take his position.

Louis had always been surprised just how easy it was in football to replace any given player at any time. He went inside, jogging towards the toilets. Blindly he stepped inside and immediately collided with another body.

He reached out to steady the other boy but realised that it wasn’t necessary because, despite his petite frame, he seemed to have caught himself.

He was wearing something that looked like a very tight white tee, black tights and weird, white, soft looking leather shoes. Louis was about to make a comment when he looked in the boys face and realised he knew him.

It was Zayn, a boy from their school he’d never really talked to. His expression showed defiance and a kind of angry pride, like he was daring Louis to say something about his outfit.

“What are you doin’ here looking like a sissy? Never seen u at the gym before,” Louis asked, more out of real curiosity than real judgment.

“It's none of your business, actually, but if you must know, the ballet class my mum teaches had to find a new space to train and your coach allowed us to do it here because you lot aren’t allowed in the dance studio anyways. Said something about a hoard of bulls in a glassware store.”

Louis blinked. Then he laughed. This boy, who looked like he wouldn’t be able to hold his own even in a minor fight, seemed to be tougher than most boys on his team.

“And what exactly is it, you do in this ‘ballet class’? Hop around with the other girls? Where’s your skirt by the way?”

“We’re doing real sport, that actually requires form and concentration. Also, we don’t pretend to die as soon as someone else so much as breathes in our direction. And I don’t have a ‘skirt’ and if I had one it would be called a ‘tutu’ anyways,” Zayn said. He gave Louis a little shove, who stumbled back a step in surprise, and slipped past him. Standing on Louis’s other side now, he grinned at him.

“Who’s the sissy now, huh?” he said, and Louis took a swing.

He stumbled again when his fist didn’t connect with Zayn’s face, as anticipated. Zayn, who’d ducked out of the way with surprising agility, just laughed at him and started to make his way back to the dance studio.

“Come on and join us if you want to try out a real sport!” he yelled over his shoulder. Louis just shook his head and went finally went for his wee.

When he left the toilets again he could hear music. It was obviously produced by the very old, slightly out of tune piano Louis often snuck into the dance studio to play on.

Slowly he stepped towards the studio. When he reached the door he pressed his face at the small glass window in the door to see something.

On his right stood a tall and very slim woman who looked very much like an older female version of Zayn, hands on her hips. The curtains on the wall behind her had been drawn to the side and for the first time, Louis realised that behind them were mirrors. At least now he knew why the footie team wasn’t allowed in this specific room.

He let his eyes wander to the other side of the room where he saw three lines of girls, and Zayn, stand behind each other, facing the mirrors and the woman in front of them, slowly moving their arms.

The music stopped and all he heard was the sound of heavy breathing and then the woman yelled, “Again!” and suddenly everyone, like one entity, surged back two steps and arranged themselves in the same position.

There was a kind of unsure moment where the whole studio seemed to be waiting, while the atmosphere felt like it held its breath. Then Madame Malik clapped her hands.

“Mr. Cordon, music, please,” she said, and it seemed like as soon as the music started the whole room came to life.

Louis was caught in the beauty of the group moving as a whole. Only after a while, he realised that Madame Malik had started to yell things at the other children. Sometimes she was yelling at a specific person, other times she seemed to be yelling at the whole group, Louis wasn’t exactly sure how the group could distinguish who she was yelling at.

“... Try to keep your arm in line. Come on, at least pretend you're doing fine. Forget about content, focus on style! Steal an inch on them and they'll give you a mile; and smile, smile, smile, smile!”

She stepped around them, absentmindedly correcting the arm or leg stance of one or the other. She stopped in front of a tiny girl, eyed her critically and then continued her walk. Louis could see a small, proud smile on her lips while Zayn, who, stood behind her, rolled his eyes.

“It doesn't matter if you're large or small, trapezoid, short or tall, cerebrally challenged, completely shot, you might have it or might not, all you really have to do is shine.”

She hit Zayn lightly over the head when she passed him, but Louis could see that they both tried to hide the same small grin now. Then the moment was over and Madame Malik continued walking.

“It doesn't matter if your life's a mess, the whole process will coalesce, come on just effervesce; if you're unemployed, only partially humanoid, an octopoid whose mind's a void, if you're special needs, maimed or lame, or born in Leeds. They love to see a heart that bleeds, all you really have to do is shine.”

Madame Malik had finished her circuit and was now standing in front of the class again. Suddenly she pointed at the feet of a girl in the first row, who immediately corrected her turn out. Then she pointed at another girls arm, who pressed her shoulders farther down and did something with her arm that made it look like it was a perfect round half circle.

And then a girl on the side caught her attention and she slowly started to walk in her direction.

“You might be feeling lousy, you might be feeling blue, a little apprehensive, a minor touch of flu. They couldn't give a monkey's cuss, they couldn't give a fig. Come on, son, get over it, it's all part of the gig.”

The girl looked like she was trying to keep standing at all costs but when Madame Malik reached her and touched her forehead it looked like someone had cut the cords of a hand puppet. She went to the side of the studio as soon as Madame Malik gave her a little nod.

Where the girl had been dancing was an empty space now. Louis waited for one of the who stood farther in the back to fill it but the spot remained empty while everyone seemed to consciously avoid stepping into it.

“Give 'em the old rinkle tinkle, give 'em the old kabam, knock 'em sideways blow their minds out, there's no time for half time frolics, grab the buggers by the bollocks, show 'em what class is all about: Give 'em the old razzle dazzle, turn on the old pizzazz, there won't be time to shilly shally. Give it backbone, give it welly, bowl them over, knock 'em out, show them what life's all about. Give them the old razzle dazzle and shine!”

She yelled one last time and stopped walking in front of the class. The music stopped after one fluid motion of the girls and the whole studio was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing.

“We only have six months left to rehearse, girls, you really have to get better if ya want to woo the audience!”

Louis stared. Six months was such a long time and they already knew the choreography.

“Louis? What the hell are you doing here? Why are you not coming back to practice?”

Louis whirled around and was ready to defend himself to death when he realised that it had been Liam who had talked to him. He knew Liam wouldn’t mock him but he also knew Liam wouldn’t ask if he didn’t explain.

“Let’s just get back to practice,” Louis said, and walked past Liam towards the beak door. Liam was staring after him, but Louis wasn’t going to be the one telling him to catch up. No, sir, he wasn’t.

“Catch up, lad!”

God damnit, Louis.

After practice, Louis saw Harry running towards him from the sidelines. He’d almost forgotten that they were supposed to meet up after practice.

As soon as Harry tackled him into a hug he realised that he could use nothing more than a distraction and something about Harry made it hard for him to concentrate on anything but him as soon as he was around.

He pressed himself a little closer to Harry, burying his nose in the smaller boys curls.

“I have to take a quick shower, I’ll be back in a moment,” he mumbled, and jogged inside.

When he passed the hallway with the dance studio he stopped for a moment. He couldn’t see the room from this angle but he could hear muffled piano music and he was pretty sure he could hear Madame Malik yelling.

He shook his head and picked up his pace again, already pulling his shirt over his head so he’d be in the showers before all the others. He sighed when he realised that he was the first in the changing room.

He took a quick shower, during which he tried to figure out what to cook for tea, but his mind seemed to drift back to the image of eleven girls and Zayn dancing, a hole in the middle of the formation.

He was still thinking about soft movements and synchronised bodies when he finished up, put clothes on and went outside to meet Harry.

Walking home together, he might have been uncharacteristically quiet, which was probably the reason why Harry kept giving him concerned glances, but he hadn’t expected his thoughtfulness to be so concerning. It was unnerving. So when they almost reached Louis’s house he snapped.

“What is it? First Liam and now you too! Quit staring like I’m about to explode!”

Harry took a step back, hunching his shoulders up and looked at him, hurt in his eyes.

“You got a right cob on, is all. Normally, after practice, you’re all buzzing but you haven’t said a word.” Louis considered that.

Harry had a point. He might be quiet and thoughtful at times but never after footie practice. He was always practically vibrating with adrenaline.

He considered telling Harry about the ballet class of Madame Malik. They had always been best friends, like their mums and their elder siblings had been before them.

Well, their mums had been. Gemma’s and Tony’s relationship was a bit more complicated. They always seemed to piss each other off more than actually get along, but were still inseparable.

If Harry wouldn’t understand Louis’s sudden fascination with ballet or call him a sissy for it Louis wasn’t sure their friendship would ever recover from it. Or if he would, for that matter. All he knew was that under no circumstances could he lose Harry.

When he looked up and their eyes met, he realised something. Harry was the most important person in his life, and that feeling was mutual. Whatever they told each other had always been and would always be accepted and treated with utter respect.

Louis smiled at Harry and continued walking.

“What do you think about ballet, Haz?” he asked, softly.

Now Harry was the one who became very quiet. When Louis gave him a glance he was sure that his ears were a bit pink.

“I think ballet is pretty. Also dancing is fun, innit?” Harry said.

Louis nodded. Dancing was fun. They’d stolen their siblings’ records and danced around to them more than once, but comparing what he’d seen today to their dancing was like comparing his green rubber duck in his bathtub at home to the living swan on the lake behind the park.

“Would you think I was silly if I told you that I want to try it out? Madame Malik’s ballet class is now training in the studio at our gym. I saw them today.” It was mumbled so quietly Louis wasn’t sure Harry had got it all.

But Harry stopped in his tracks and gripped Louis arm. Louis looked up at him and now he was pretty sure Harry was blushing.

“I think you’d be good at dancing ballet.” He looked Louis straight into the eye when he said it, as if to make sure Louis knew he meant it.

Louis felt like a weight had dropped from his shoulders. He laughed and hugged Harry before running up the steps to his front door.

“I think you’d look beautiful.”

Louis turned around grinning at Harry, who hadn’t moved.

“Did you say something?” he asked, pretty sure he’d heard Harry say something.

But when Harry just shook his head and followed him up the stairs with a smile spread on his face he turned back to the door, running in while yelling over his shoulder.

“Come on, Haz, we gotta decide what to cook!”

~*~

Louis woke up the next morning with a mouth full of curls. Harry and him had been sleeping in the same bed during sleepovers since, well, since before they’d been born, really, and because neither of them ever complained about it, they’d just never stopped.

He actually does own a picture of his mum holding Harry’s mum just like this. He’s in the picture too, about a year old, cuddling up to Anne’s already pretty round belly.

Carefully he untangled himself from Harry, trying to do so without waking him. He managed not to disturb Harry, but Lady Deirdre, on the other hand, was a very light sleeper and as soon as Louis moved she stood up arching her back, looking at him disappointedly.

When he finally managed to get out of the bed, it looked like she’d follow him for a second, but then she just walked over to the spot where Louis had been lying and cuddled up to Harry, purring contently. He sneaked towards the door and into the hallway.

On his way to the kitchen, he looked into his brother’s room, which was empty. Louis rolled his eyes. Tony really shouldn’t stay out overnight so often because every time he did their nana would get upset, Louis thought while tapping into the kitchen. Still half asleep he put one of the records into the player, turning the volume down just before the music started.

He tried not to sing along but he’d accidentally put on one of his favourites of Tony’s record collection. Meat Loaf always made him want to dance and sing along.

With practiced moves, he started to prepare breakfast for the four of them, because eventually Tony had to come home and he’d probably be hungry. Humming under his breath he twirled from the fridge to the small stove where he slowly let the eggs glide into the water.

“And you took the words right out of my mouth, oh—it must have been while you were kissing me…”

He made tea and was about to set the table when Harry strolled in. He stopped singing for a moment to smile at him and then went back to arranging the plates on the table when Harry leaned over his shoulder.

“Where’s your Nana? Isn’t she usually awake when you make breakfast?” He asked. Louis looked at him for a second, then he ran out of the kitchen into the next room. The bed was empty.

“Oh, bugger!” Louis ran towards the front door, ignoring Harry who was yelling something at him.

When he ran on the street he saw Niall in his front yard.

“Where is she?” he all but yelled at his friend. Niall looked at him, just pointing in the direction of the park.

He was glad his friend knew exactly what he meant. While he ran down the street he thanked any kind of higher power that almost no one in their neighbourhood owned a car and that he didn’t see his Nana anywhere near the street.

When he finally reached the park he found her sitting on the old bench under the lamppost near the lake, humming some old song to herself. Louis felt like he was about to cry from relief. When he came near her, she looked up to him, no immediate recognition lighting up in her eyes.

“May I sit down?” he smiled down at her and she smiled back warmly.

When he sat down next to her he noticed that she was still wearing her nightgown, but that she’d at least put on a knitted west.

“I’m waiting for my Johnny. He said he’d come and pick me up here. He promised. Do you know my Johnny?” he was looking out on the lake while she talked and Louis looked down at his hands.

He knew that his grandfather had told his Nana he’d return and that she should wait for him right here. And she did. She’d waited for him. Even after she got the letter that he was missing.

Then, when the official letter came that he died in captivity, she stopped going to the park altogether.

But for the past five years, she'd come back more and more often.

She sat here and waited, telling Louis about her Johnny.

“You know, he promised me that he’ll take me dancing when he comes back. He always says I could be a dancer. A real charmer he is, my Johnny.” She was now smiling at Louis, patting him on the leg.

“You look like you could be a dancer, too, one day. My Johnny, he’s a dancer. On television and at the theatre.” Suddenly she looked around nervously and tried to stand up. Louis, who still didn’t know what to say, quietly helped her. She’d never talked about his grandfather being a dancer before and Louis really didn’t know what to make of this.

“Where’s my daughter? She must be here somewhere. I’m sure I left her at the sandbox only a few minutes ago.” Her eyes were searching the park and the round wildflower meadow that looked like it hadn't been a sandbox in the last twenty years.

Softly Louis took his Nana’s hand and looked her in the eyes.

“Nana, your daughter is not here.” She looked at him, clearly confused.

“When is she coming back? I left her right here,” she said and Louis grabbed her arm, sighing.

“Mum died nine years ago, Nana, when I was three. She’s not coming back,” he said, slowly starting to walk home. For a few minutes, his Nana was very quiet but when they reached the end of the park she spoke up again.

“My Johnny will come for me soon. He promised. And when he comes he’ll take me dancing, and then I will become a professional dancer. My honey, he’s a dancer, too, you know?” Louis just nodded at that and made a humming sound in agreement.

There was no sense in disagreeing with her. He just let her talk about her Johnny and about dancing, always silently nodding in agreement until they reached their house.

When they entered he saw Harry sitting at the table waiting for them, the breakfast he hadn't finished setting up ready, the eggs cold. He’d put the earl grey on the tea warmer so at least Louis and Nana had something to warm up.

When they walked in, Harry immediately jumped up and draped a blanket each, first around Louis’s Nana and then around Louis.

When they finally all sat down for breakfast and Louis took his first sip of tea he realised that he, too, was only wearing his pyjamas and that he was, in fact, cold. He smiled at Harry and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at him.

After a moment of silence, Harry started to tell Nana about the dream he had last night which took place at their school, and had something to do with a really big cat, several potatoes with faces, legs and football shoes. Louis also heard his name but he was distracted.

He thought about what his Nana had said about his grandfather being a dancer on television. He knew there were dancers on television. He’d just always thought they were poofs.

But maybe, if his grandfather had been a dancer, being a dancer didn’t mean that you had to be a poof.

He considered this while watching Harry talking animatedly to his nana. He smiled at the sight because Harry looked so happy and cute like this.

Louis remembered watching Madame Malik’s class. He remembered how fascinated he’d been.

Harry had said he believed Louis could be a good dancer. Maybe, if dancing didn’t equal being a poof, he could try it. Even if he tried for just one class.

He looked at Harry again, who was now listening intently to Louis’s Nana telling him how she could’ve been a dancer. He couldn’t help himself, he grabbed Harry's hand under the table and squeezed it.

Harry looked at him and squeezed back before focusing on Nana again, like he was hearing the story for the first time.

He didn’t let go of Louis hand.

~*~

Louis could hear the excited chatting inside the dance studio, but he wasn’t ready to go in yet. He was wearing his footie clothes so that Tony wouldn’t suspect anything, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel comfortable in them.

He was just about to take his things and walk away again when he heard a voice behind him.

“I see you’ve come to try a real sport, lad.”

Louis turned around faster than ever before in his life. Zayn was standing in front of the door to the dance studio wearing his ballet clothes, one eyebrow raised.

“Are you going to come, or nah?” he asked when he pushed it open.

Louis nodded and followed inside. When he entered the studio, everyone went quiet. Louis realised that he knew the faces of everyone in here. All of those girls were in his school.

He tried to ignore them and went to Mrs. Malik.

“Ma’am, I’d like to try out ballet please.” He cringed at himself while he said it but the teacher just nodded.

“Oh, hello there! I’m Madame Malik, what’s your name, son?” she asked, eyeing him up and down.

“Louis, Ma’am.” He wasn’t sure what her look meant, but she bent down and picked up a pair of those white leathery shoes everyone in this room seemed to be wearing. He took the shoes, but Madame Malik kept her hand extended.

“That’s 50p,” she said, with a sort of stern determination that could have made their coach obey.

Louis gave her the 50p he’d usually give Coach and looked down at the shoes he was holding.

“I can’t wear those, I’ll look like a right sissy,” he said, holding them up.

“Well, you shoulda thought about that before you came in. Now get into position. We’re starting at the barre!” The last part she yelled at the whole class.

Louis watched three girls push a horizontal bar into the middle of the studio.

The others were all taking places on either side of the bar, facing Madame Malik.

“Go on then, son, take a place,” was all she said before nodding at the podgy little man behind the piano.

Louis was scrambling to get up and to the end of the bar when the music already started.

“We’re doing pliés. You all know the exercise. Demi plié, demi — arms in second, grad plié with port de bras down then first and back in second, relevé arm in open fifth, tendu second and again. Lizzie mind your turn out, Tessa soft arms, Emma shoulders and smile! Now in fifth and in the end a relevé hold.”

Louis did, in fact, not know the exercise. He could hear the words and he saw the others immediately reacting to them but he neither understood the connection between the movements and the words nor how he was supposed to bring his body to accomplish them himself.

He tried to imitate the girl who stood in front of him as best as he could, but felt like he was always two movements behind. In the end of the exercise, when he tried to stand on his toes without holding onto the bar without falling over, he felt like this had been a terrible idea.

“Now turn and do the other side.” Madame Malik said and suddenly everyone was looking in Louis direction. He turned around, too, and realised that now he had nobody in front of him.

“Ma’am, I dunno what to do!” Louis couldn’t hide the slight hysteria in his tone when he thought he could hear Zayn snicker behind him.

“We’re doing the pliés again. Zayn, you trade places with Louis for now. We’re gonna do ‘grands battements and grands battements en cloche’ next and then ‘battements frappés and petites battements’ and the ‘Adage’ before we stretch and go into the center. Every exercise twice, left and right each. You should know all three exercises from last week. Mister Cordon, music!”

Louis fumbled his way through the exercises, never completely sure what he was doing, while simultaneously having the odd feeling that this was the most fun he’s ever had.

After the Adage exercise, which he’d managed better than the others for the sole reason that it was very slow and he could actually keep up, Madame Malik came to him. Everyone was still holding their end position. Louis now knew that standing on your tiptoes was called a ‘relevé’ and that extending your arms to both sides was a ‘second position’.

He wasn’t entirely sure what their current position was called, but he could feel muscles in his arms, his legs, his butt, and his neck that he’d never felt before.

“Drop your shoulders. Look forward beyond your fingertips.” She lifted his arm a little, then poked him softly in the back, right under his shoulder blades.

“You’ll want to push your shoulders down here. Do you feel that?” When he nodded, she moved on to his feet.

She pushed the one he was standing on out, and then went to his other foot, which wasn’t half as high in the air as the legs of the others— a solid 40 degree angle— he thought when he looked back, and turned it out too.

“Stabilise your hips. No, the left one needs to be the same height as the other. Yes, that’s right.” When he almost lost his balance she took him by the arm and held him until he’d found his balance again.

Louis smiled a little. For the first time ever, he felt like he had actually accomplished something. When he looked at the others, he found them smiling at him.

As soon as they started stretching Louis felt hopelessly lost again. Apparently, football didn’t do shit for his flexibility, and now he couldn’t even touch his toes when he sat with straight legs.

Getting into the middle he soon realised that Madame Malik wouldn’t cut him any slack just because he was new. Some of the exercises were manageable like the one called ‘Port de bras’.

It was mostly arms and very slow so Louis actually had a chance to follow the instructions and learn how the positions are called or that the more he actually stretched his legs and contracted the muscles in his tummy and but the less he felt like falling over.

Other exercises were far too quick and complicated to manage. Especially when Madame Malik started to just yell instructions at them without showing what they were supposed to do.

“Now sissonnes fermées de côté devant and changement, changement, changement battu and assemblés derrière and glissades dessus and glissade dessous and changement, changement, changement battu and relevé in fifth position!”

Louis was confused. They were standing in three lines and having learned from standing at the end of the barre he was standing right in the middle of the group. He could see himself and the others in the mirror. That helped, but he could also make eye contact with Zayn who seemed to be highly amused by Louis’s less than impressive performance.

When they were supposed to do ‘pirouettes en dedans’ Louis realised that he wasn’t the only one struggling.

“First we’re going to do centre practice and then you’re going to do it with a turn. Remember, find a spot on the wall, focus on it and then whip your head around like there’s no tomorrow when you turn. Louis, you don’t have to if you don’t feel ready,” Madame Malik said, and Louis could hear some of the girls and Zayn snicker.

He blushed and his determination rose. When it was time to do the turn he did the relevé just as he had done during the centre practice and whipped his head around.

The next thing he knew was that he was sitting on his butt and Zayn was flat out laughing at him. He was not alone on the floor, though. At least three other girls were nearer to the Earth than they should be, and most of the other girls looked like they had only barely contained their balance.

“I told you, ya didn’t have to do the turn.” Madame Malik gave him a stern look. Louis stared back intently until she sighed and walked over to him.

“Come on, up you get,” she said as she pulled him up. “Now find a place on that bloody wall and focus on that spot. Then whip your head round and come back to that spot.”

She pushed his shoulders down and then she corrected his arms so that his third position was correct.

He tried again. This time he didn’t fall. Almost.

Madame Malik just shook her head in a silent ‘I told you so’ when one of the girls who’d managed not to fall and looked all in all pretty competent piped up.

“Ma’am, when are we gonna learn fouetté turns?”

Madame Malik looked at the girl as if she was crazy.

“You can’t even do one pirouette without struggling, not to mention two. How do you want to do ten fouetté turns where you also have to extend your leg, Jane?” she asked. The girl looked at her hands, where she was fumbling with her skirt.

“And stop picking at your tutu, that’ll only make it lose its shape.”

“Could you show us the fouettés again, Ma’am?” Another girl asked. Louis was sure she’d tell her off, too, but Madame Malik smiled at the girls request.

She shrugged out of her knitted vest and got into the same position they had started their exercise in. The beginning was the same, Louis realised when she did the centre practice. Then she did the pirouette so effortlessly and slow that Louis realised that she did it with a completely different intention than him.

She seemed to be going into the pirouette with the intention to turn on this exact spot for as long as possible with minimum effort and momentum while he’d tried to just do one turn as quickly as possible.

Then she did another relevé in fifth and a plié in fifth and went into another pirouette, but instead of stopping after one turn, she extended her leg quickly, moved it in a circle back to its original position and then she did it again. And again. And again.

Louis had never in his life seen anything more beautiful or awe inspiring than this. Suddenly he had the urge to be able to do this. He leaned over to one of the girls standing next to him.

“What is she doing? That’s not what we were trying to earlier,” he whispered as quietly as possible. The girl leaned towards him and whispered equally quietly.

“She’s doing a full turn in passe, a pirouette, followed by a plie on the standing leg while the retiré leg extends to croise front and rond de jambes to the side a la seconde, at an exact ninety degree angle.  As the leg hits the a la second and still in plie, she releves and brings the leg into retiré and begins a turn again.” Louis looked at her, puzzled. And she rolled her eyes.

“She’s building up momentum by kicking out her leg while she’s in plié for the next turn.” She translated helpfully for him.

“I want to be able to do that,” Louis whispered.

The girl snorted and looked back at Madame Malik who had ended her demonstration in a pose.

“Good luck with that, lad,” was all she said.

~*~

After class he saw one of the girls standing in front of the gym. He was about to just walk past her when he realised that all the others knew the names of the steps and could do them immediately after hearing the term, he asked one of them where they knew them from.

She told him that there was a book at the library that had all the terms with photographs in it, and that he should just lend it.

The first time Louis walked into the library and pulled the book with the beautiful ballerina on the cover from the shelf, the librarian, who’d been eyeing him warily since he’d entered the building, had snapped her fingers at him.

“I don’t know why yer lookin’ at that. You can’t take that out on a junior ticket,” she snarled at him.

Carefully he put the book back, never breaking eye contact with her.

“The books on football and the kids books are over there,” she said helpfully, and pointed at a shelf on the other side of the room. Louis nodded at her and left.

The next day on their way to school, he told Harry about the ballet book and how he needed it but couldn’t get it. He knew Harry was up to something when he saw the mischievous spark in his eye.

When they entered the library after school Harry went straight to the librarian and asked her about new fantasy books and if she could tell him when the last part of some weird trilogy would come out. She smiled and nodded at him, not giving Louis a second glance and walked to the other end of the library.

When he was sure that she couldn’t see him anymore he took the book from the shelf, put into the back of his trousers and pulled his denim jacket over it. Then he went over to where Harry and the librarian were deeply engrossed in a debate whether Narnia or Lord of the Rings was better.

He rolled his eyes fondly and poked Harry in the side. The smaller boy squealed and tried to get out of his reach.

The librarian gave Louis a stink eye and told them to be quiet in the library. They just nodded, and Louis let Harry push him towards the exit. When they reached the door he looked back at the librarian and waved.

“See you, Miss!” he yelled, but before she could say anything they were out of the door and doubled over on the sidewalk, laughing.

That evening Louis started to read the book, secretly with a torchlight under his covers. He tried to memorise all the words and the pictures.

The next day, when he came home from school, he put the book up on the table and tried to imitate the pictures as well as possible. Then he learned the movements and when he was sure he did them all right and knew all the words and movements, he let Harry quiz him.

They spent an entire hour under the bridge behind the gym where Harry just shouted ballet terms at Louis and he frantically tried to remember what the hell a posé en tournant was.

He knew that his movements didn’t necessarily look like the pictures in the book, but when they finished and he looked at Harry, he could see the stunned expression on his best friend’s face.

“You’re so good, Lou. It looks so pretty when you dance.” Harry’s voice sounded small and Louis beamed.

The next time at ballet practice he was able to actually understand what Madame Malik was saying and he couldn’t help but notice the impressed looks he got from the others. Needless to say that his form wasn’t as good as the others, and that he still couldn’t do a decent pirouette, but he actually felt like he’d accomplished something.

Over the next months, Louis started to train everywhere he went. He practiced at home while cooking. He worked on his balance while brushing his teeth, stretched every morning and evening, his flexibility improving slowly but steadily.

Even walking to school with Harry he started to practice his promenade, chasseś, pas de couru and pas de chats while Harry walked next to him, laughing.

In the evenings he did all the exercises from last week just to build up more muscles. Sometimes Harry would watch, his sketch pad on his knees, idly scribbling. Every evening Louis ended with trying pirouettes.

The night he managed his first perfectly balanced pirouette, Harry was in the kitchen. He came running as soon as headed Louis’ excited yell.

“I did it! Haz! I did it! Look!” And he did another pirouette. Perfectly balanced, slow and with a steady end. Harry made an inhuman noise and tackled him to the ground.

They were lying on the floor, laughing so hard they were crying.

Then Louis got up and started to practice a double pirouette.

That night Tony came home very late and very loudly, and if Louis woke up and cuddled closer to Harry for comfort, no one had to know.

When he managed the double pirouette, it was during ballet practice.

He hadn’t actually told anyone he could do pirouettes, and so when Madame Malik decided one day to do pirouettes en dehors, Louis didn’t think.

He focused on a point at the wall and whipped his head around. And then, without stopping he did it again, ending the pirouette in a steady fifth position.

He grinned at Madame Malik who looked back at him, unimpressed.

“What have I told you about that arm?” was all she said before ushering them all back to the corner.

Louis’s smile disappeared, looking after her, but then she turned back at him and he saw her wink at him. That evening Louis cooked something special. Then he phoned Harry and invited him over for that night.

After that, all he did was try to manage pirouette fouettés until he finally did. His landing wasn’t perfect, but at least he didn’t lose his balance anymore during the turns because he lost his focus point.

The next day after ballet practice, he stayed behind to show Madame Malik that he was finally able to do fouettés. He was in the middle of turning when he heard a bang. He knew he had to focus on his point, but during the next turn, he saw that the door was open and Tony was standing in the doorway, looking furious.

Louis immediately lost his balance and fell. He didn’t even catch himself, he just fell on his ass and then just kinda sat there, awkwardly staring at his brother.

Tony was frozen where was standing in the doorway. He blinked when he realised Louis was looking at him and walked towards him.

“Get out of here. Now. You’re not going to dance ever again.” He was now standing over Louis looking down at him the irritation and disgust clear on his face.

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t think this is any of your business.” Madame Malik tried to intercept but Tony just glared at her and hauled Louis up.

“But Tony…” Louis didn’t get any further because now Tony was yelling again.

“I can't believe all this time you’ve spent your 50p on hoppin’ around like a sissy! Well, this stops now because we don’t have  enough money for this anyways because of the fucking mine bosses.”

When Louis didn’t react quickly enough, Tony just threw another glare at Madame Malik and stormed off.

Louis and Madame Malik just stood there for a moment and looked after him. When the teacher finally turned to Louis he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his bag and fled into the changing room.

He kicked the shoes off his feet and threw them as hard as he could at the wall. When they hit the ground, he started to cry.

First, he cried silent angry tears. He was so mad at himself for actually getting invested in ballet, at Tony for being a douche, at Madame Malik for giving him hope that he could actually be good, and for the world in general for being so unaccepting.

He looked back at the ballet shoes, innocently lying on the floor and started to full on sob.

Just once in his life Louis wanted to have fun and do something he liked doing, but he couldn’t have it anymore, and it felt like losing the most important thing in his life.

He didn’t hear the knock on the wall but when Madame Malik sat down next to him he didn’t flinch. He knew she’d come after having cleaned up.

For some time they just sat next to each other silently, until his breathing calmed down and his tears dried.

“There’s an audition for the Royal Ballet School in London next month. We’ll have to drive over to Manchester, but I really think you should go there and audition. Maybe they’ll take ye.” She said, considering him.

“You heard my brother, Ma’am. I’m not allowed to dance anymore, and I’m also not getting those 50p to pay you,” Louis whispered, almost starting to cry again.

“I could train you privately in the evenings for free, Louis. I just want you to see you try out for that school. I think it could be the right thing for you,” she says, and when Louis looks up to her, she looks totally serious.

Louis didn’t know what to say. He was almost sure this was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He just nodded.

“Good. We’ll meet here tomorrow at 7 pm. Bring something that’s important to you, and some music. We’ll make a choreography that actually means something to you so that the jury can see you dance as freely as possible.”

When they met up at the gym the next evening, everything was completely empty.

Madame Malik was already sitting next to the record player, waiting for him. Louis was carrying a record that he’d stolen from his brother, and his most prized possession.

First, he gave Madame Malik the record. She smiled when she took it.

“Ah, yes, I listened to that on loop when it first came out. Which one were you thinking?” she said, turning it around and looking at the tracks.

“I thought ‘soul kitchen’ because my brother says my mum really liked that song, and she’d always listen to it,” he said, looking down at the letter in his hand.

Madame Malik gave him a few seconds, then she pointed at the letter.

“What’s that?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Louis face.

“It’s a letter.” Louis didn’t know how to really explain it to her without showing her.

“I can see it’s a letter,” she said softly.

“It’s me mum’s. She wrote it for when I was 18, but I opened it. Here.” He gave her the letter and she unfolded it and started to read.

“Dear Louis,

I must seem a distant memory, which is probably a good thing and it will have been a long time...

And I will have missed you growing, and I'll have missed you crying, and I'll have missed you laugh,

missed your stamping and your shouting, I have missed telling you off.”

She looked up at him, her eyebrows knitted together. Louis was staring into space. She paused and Louis continued for her, quoting the letter from memory.

“But please, Louis, know that I was always there. I was with you through everything and I always will be.

And please Louis. Know that I will always be proud to have known you, proud that you were mine, proud in everything and you must promise me this, Louis, in everything you do, always be yourself and you always will be true.

Love you forever,

Mum”

~*~

Two days before the audition Louis was humming anticipation and nerves on his way home. He knew they’d made a choreography that perfectly captured his love for his mum and her love for him.

He’d trained every day for the past month and knew the steps in his sleep. Now all he could do was give everything and hope for the best.

He was just walking towards Harry and Niall, who were sitting on the little wall between their houses, when he heard shouts.

When he turned around he saw Tony running from the police. His brother was fast, but the cops were onto him. When they caught up to him and wrestled him down Louis tried to run towards him and help, but Harry and Niall had caught him around the waist.

He struggled and tried to get out of their grip but they didn’t let go of him and dragged him inside. Louis was staring at the policemen, who pushed his brother inside the big car and drove off.

“Gems is in Manchester tonight, but she’ll come home tomorrow, so we can bail him out then,” Harry said, trying to calm him down. Louis just nodded and let his friends maneuver him into the kitchen where Harry immediately started to prepare food.

The next day Louis found a note in their mail that he is obligated to show up in court the following day as a witness and to post Tony's bail.

That day Louis doesn’t go to ballet practice, without telling Madame Malik.

When he, Gemma and Tony return home after the court date they find Madame Malik in front of the house, waiting for them.

“Are you even aware that your little brother just missed the biggest chance in his whole life? He has so much talent and is so enthusiastic about dancing that he could become a professional one day. But now that he’s missed the audition for the Royal Ballet School in London there are only limited options for a boy even with his talent to apply for it,” she hissed at Tony.

“We don’t care. There's no way Louis’ going to a ballet school in London. Ballet is for poofs, and too girly, not for men like us, innit Louis?” he yelled back at her.

Louis didn’t answer at that. He just slowly crept back towards the door. Both Gemma and Madame Malik looked like they were about to protest but suddenly a sweet voice came from the kitchen.

“I could’ve been a professional dancer,” his Nana said, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Yes, Nana, I know, but Louis...” was all Louis heard before he made a run for it.

He didn’t stop until he reached Harry’s house, down the next street. Breathless and shaking from anger he knocked on the door until Harry opened.

The moment he saw Harry, he froze. Harry was wearing a blue dress with tiny white flowers printed on it.

“What are you wearing?” Louis asked, eyes wide with shock and also a little bit of awe. The blue complimented Harry’s eyes and his tousled curls worked beautifully with the white collar.

“Chelsea girl, I think?” he answered unhelpfully and walked back inside.

“Whose dress is that?” Louis called after him while looking around nervously.

“Come on!” was the only answer he got back. Slowly he went inside looking for Harry, who was sitting cross legged on his bed, painting his nails pink.

Louis sat down on the bed in front of him and considered his friend. Harry looked very concentrated. Next to him was an open sketch pad with caricatures of women in fancy dresses and elaborate hats. On top of the sketch pad was the open nail polish bottle.

“Whose dress is this?” Louis asked again, softly.

“It’s me sisters. My mum kept all her old clothes and she gave them to me,” Harry said, stopping his painting for a moment and looking up.

They stayed like this quietly until Harry finished painting his nails. He disappeared for a moment and came back with lipstick. He put it on and turned to Louis with a smile.

“Now you.” He came back, sitting down in front of Louis, closer than before.

Louis held his breath while Harry cradled his cheek in one hand and painted his lips red with the other.

Harry’s brows were knitted together, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, his long lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones.

Harry stopped painting and leaned back a bit, still cradling Louis cheek, judging his work.

“Why are you wearing your sisters dress? Aren’t dresses for girls?” Louis asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept of a guy wearing a dress.

“Because I like it. Dresses are pretty and the skirts are flowy. And my mum says that clothes have no gender, because they’re all made from the same material anyways. Don’t you have to wear a skirt for ballet?” Louis had to think about Harry’s words for a moment.

“It’s called a tutu. And only the girls have to wear it,” he said ultimately.

They were quiet again for a moment. But this time it felt different. There are different types of quietness. The lazy quiet, that is merely a lack of words, the unsure quiet, that contains lot of unsaid words, the knowing quiet, that is not quiet at all because the conversation is being continued non verbally.

This quiet was different. It was filled with a feeling of acceptance of whatever had been said and would be said in the near future. There was no active conversation going on, but the connection was still there.

“Do you think being a miner is better than being a dancer? Because I think we’re kinda similar,” Louis asked, switching the topic, but not quite. He knew Harry would understand, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to say himself.

“Well, what the hell's wrong with expressing yourself? Being who you want to be? Will anybody die if I put on a dress? Who the hell is it we’re trying to impress? All you have to do is learn to care less. If you wanna be a dancer, dance. If you wanna be a miner, mine.”

Harry looked him directly in the eye and Louis somehow understood what he was trying to say.

“If you want to dress like somebody else, fine, fine, fine. Start a new fashion, buck all the trends, it's not a big statement, it's not a weird act. Just a good idea at the time. We'll not complain about your boring life if you'll just leave me to min,” Louis said, grinning now. Of course, they understood each other. They always had.

“Everyone is different, it's the natural state, it's the facts, it's plain to see. The world's grey enough without making it worse. What we need is individuality.”

Harry was grinning now, too, as he said it. Louis felt relief wash over him. He almost forgot about the drama that was currently unfolding at his house, and for the first time in a long time, he felt confident and good about himself.

His newfound confidence was challenged before the next ballet class. Louis was warming up in the boys changing room. He didn’t expect anyone to come in. Footie practice had started over half an hour ago, and wouldn’t end for another hour so there really was no reason for anyone to show up.

So of course on that particular day, Liam aka Mr. always-on-time was half an hour late.

He stormed into the changing room, looking out of breath and stressed. As soon as he realised that Louis was there, too, he stopped in his tracks.

“Hey, poof. Are you here for your sissy class?” Liam said and put his bag down.

Louis tried to stay calm, but when he saw Liam’s smug expression, he flipped.

“I have a girlfriend, and you know that! Also, ballet is far harder than football!” He stood up, almost shaking with anger.

Liam didn’t say anything, he just slowly eyed Louis up and down, quirking his eyebrow. Louis was about to punch Liam in the face when the door of the changing room flew open and Zayn whirled in.

He was wearing a denim jeans and a white t-shirt so tight that every muscle was visible. Before Louis or Liam could react he was poking his finger into Liam's chest, looking furious.

“There is literally no reason to be a little bitch just because you don’t understand something. And you better stop being so insecure. Just because we’re prettier and more flexible doesn’t mean you aren’t eye candy yourself,” he said and winked.

Then he turned around walked away, hips swaying. Both Louis and Liam stared after him.

Louis couldn’t help but notice with some amusement that Liam spent the whole class watching Zayn through the window in the door.

On his way home, Louis thought about what to get Harry for Christmas. He wanted to give Harry the world and more, but they were already so short on money that Louis was pretty sure they’d have spaghetti again on Christmas Eve.

The chances that he’d get a Christmas present were slim to none, not to mention a birthday present.

Louis desperately tried to figure out what to get for Harry the whole way and even when he came home he still had no clue.

Softly he ran his fingers down the side of one of the pictures of his mum that were all over the house and suddenly he had an idea.

The last days before Christmas holidays went by slowly and Louis spent every evening working on his present for Harry.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, Louis was excited to finally give Harry his present.

They were supposed to meet up at the park around after tea time, so when Louis and his Nana finished eating he just shrugged on his jacket and scarf, grabbed his present and ran out.

Halfway to the park, he realised he had left his mittens at home. For a moment he considered running home to get them, but he did not want to let Harry wait in the cold.

When he reached the corner in front of the park, he could already see Harry staring out on the lake.

“Hey, Haz!” he yelled and ran over to his best friend, crushing him in a hug. He could hear Harry giggle into his shoulder and feel him turn around so he could hug Louis back.

“Merry Christmas, Lou,” Harry said into his ear.

Merry Christmas,” Louis said back, and he could feel the warmth blooming in his chest.

He held on for a little longer, then he let go and pushed his present into Harry’s chest.

“Here I’ve got something for ya. Nothin’ big but, you know, it's the thought that counts or sumat,” he mumbled and looked down.

Harry stared. Then he carefully started to unwrap the present. When he saw the carefully cut out mannequins from different fashion magazines made into a collage with pictures of the two of them growing up, pictures of their mums and clumsily, yet lovingly drawn flowers and leaves in different colours, Harry took in a shaky breath.

He looked up at Louis.

“You made this for me?” he asked, his eyes wide. Louis nodded. He could see that Harry had tears in his eyes so he quickly tried to think of something to distract him.

“Hey, should we build a snowman?” he asked, poking Harry in the cheek until he started to smile and his dimple appeared.

Carefully, he put his present into his bag and put it on the bank which he’d freed from the snow beforehand.

They built the snowman on the former sandbox. When they finished the body, Louis went to find some stones for the eyes and mouth while Harry searched some sticks for the arms.

“Fuckin’ great Christmas this has been,” Louis said, pushing the stones into the head of the snowman.

“Go on, have some,” Harry said, and pulled a bottle of beer from his bag.

“Where’d you get it?” Louis took the bottle, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Me dad’s got loads in the kitchen,” Harry said, shrugging.

“Won’t he notice?” Louis asked, studying the label.

“He never knows how much is there,” Harry said while Louis took a sip. He immediately spit it out again.

“Tastes like piss!” he complained, and Harry laughed, taking the bottle back from him.

He took a sip himself, scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“My dad says you’ll get used to it,” he said, and put the bottle in Louis jacket pocket. He looked up at Louis.

“Maybe you could run away or sumat. You know, join a dancin’ troupe,” he continued, looking serious.

“Don’t be so stupid.” Louis rolled his eyes at him.

“Well, maybe it’s all for the best,” Harry said, and Louis was pretty sure he was blushing.

“What do you mean?” he asked, already suspecting the answer.

“You won't have to go away or nothin’.” They were both silent for a moment.

“Me hands are freezin’.” Louis looked down at his naked hands, red from the cold.

“Give us ‘em here.” Harry said and took both his hands. He pulled them close and pushed them into his open jacket.

Louis looked at him confusedly. Harry’s look was kind of defensive. They held the eye contact until Louis felt like he had to say something.

“What are you doin’?” he asked. The distant feeling of knowing what was happening came closer.

“Nothin’.” Harry said, still looking defensive. “Just warmin’ your hands up.”

There was silence again while realisation finally hit Louis.

“You’re not a poof or aught?” Louis finally asked, softly. There was another pause. “Aren’t me hands cold?”

“I quite like it.” Harry said, finally breaking eye contact.

He looked down at where Louis hands disappeared in his jacket. Then his eyes flew up at Louis again.

He quickly leaned forward and gave Louis a kiss on the cheek. When he leaned back he looked less defiant and more scared.

“Just ‘cause I like ballet, doesn’t mean i'm a poof, you know?” Louis said. He wasn’t sure what was happening and what he was feeling. All he knew was that his cheek felt tingly where Harry’s lips had touched it and that he wanted to feel that sensation again.

“You— You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Harry asked, his eyes wide. Louis looked at his friend and slowly started to smile. He turned around.

“Come on,” he said, taking Harry’s hand, picking up the discarded backpack from the bench on the way.

He started to run towards the gym, dragging Harry behind him.

When they reached the gym he had to search under the snow in the flowerpot until he found the key. When he finally had it he looked around to see if anyone saw him, and quickly opened the door. He walked into the dance studio, throwing his jacket into a corner, switching the lights on.

Harry followed him slowly. Louis was rummaging through Madame Malik's room in search for the tutus. When he finally found one he walked back to Harry.

“It’s fuckin’ freezing in here,” Harry complained but Louis just gave him the tutu and grinned.

“Here. Put that on,” he grinned, and ran over to get the centre. “Come on!”

Harry followed him slowly into the center where Louis waited.

“And what now?” Harry asked, looking both uncomfortable and excited.

“I’m gonna teach you an easy waltz step and a slow promenade,” Louis said, taking Harry’s hands. He pushed his hands up in a neat third position.

“Now you take a slow step to the right. No, the leg you’re stepping on needs to be bent. Yes, like that.” Louis demonstrated the step while explaining.

“And now two quick closed steps in the same place with the left foot behind the right. Yes go on your tiptoes with stretched legs,” he showed Harry the step before he bent down and brought Harry’s feet in the right position.

“Brilliant! And now the same on the left side! That’s right, love. And again!” Louis smiled when they both did the step.

“Now do the same thing but forward, like this.” He showed Harry the step until the other boy knew how to do it correctly then he walked over to the record player and put on one of the records.

Moon River started to play and Louis rejoined Harry. Slowly they started to waltz next to each other and then over the whole length of the studio. When the music stopped they both doubled over laughing. Sitting on the floor of the studio Louis told Harry about the dance he and Madame Malik had choreographed about and for his mother.

How dancing it made him feel like being close to her again. How it made him feel like flying.

“Do you want to show me the choreography?” Harry asked hesitantly, eyeing Louis from the side.

Louis looked at the record player. There was no reason for him not to. The audition was over and he had missed it. There was no jury to judge his performance, but Louis realised he didn’t actually care. He cared what Harry thought.

He got up and changed the record. Then he started to dance. For a few minutes, Louis lost himself in the music and the movements of his body.

When the track ended he opened his eyes and looked at Harry. Against his expectation, Harry didn’t look stunned or excited or even surprised. Harry looked shell shocked, the anxiety clear on his face.

He turned around and saw Tony standing in the doorway of the studio. His brother looked baffled. Louis was not entirely sure, but it looked like Tony had been crying.

When he stepped towards his brother, something broke. Tony turned around on his heels and fled.

~*~

That evening, when Louis cape home, Tony was already waiting for him in his room but before Louis could ready himself for the scolding, Tony patted on the bed beside him.

“Sit down, kiddo, we need to talk,” he said softly.

Louis, who was still suspicious, crept towards the bed and set down next to Tony with a bit of a distance for safety.

“You know, it’s hard for me to accept, but what I saw today was special. I had no idea what you could do. I just thought dancing was something sissies and poofs do. But when I saw you dancing today, I realised this is what you’re good at. You looked so happy and free and beautiful.

And even if you were a poof, it wouldn’t matter. You’re my little brother, Lou, and you always will be, and I love you.” Tony has been looking at his hands throughout his speech but when he said the last sentence he looked Louis directly into the eye.

Louis didn’t know what to say. His mouth was hanging open in shock. Tony was shrinking in on himself.

“Can you forgive me for being a twat?” he asked, a tear running down his cheek.

And then Louis was crying, too. He didn’t know when he’d started, or what the hell was happening, but he threw himself into Tony’s arms. They just sat there and hugged for a long time, both silently sobbing into each other’s shirts.

When they finally stopped crying, Tony let go of Louis and toppled over onto the bed.

“I already called Madame Malik. She said she can organise another audition. But it’ll be in London in about two months. All we have to do is get the money for the bus tickets together. We can do it, Lou. I’ll start working in the mines again. Don’t you worry, we’ll get that money together.” He smiled up at Louis, who was still too shocked to actually comprehend what his brother was saying.

When the door to his room opened with a bang they both flinched together like scared rabbits.

“You two little fuckers! Tony, if you dare crush your little bro…” she yelled while running into the house but when she entered Louis room and saw them both chilling on Louis’s bed, she stopped and looked baffled.

“What were you trying to say, Gems?” Tony smirked up at her, wickedly.

Louis could see Harry hiding behind his older sister, looking scared.

“What’s going on here?” Gemma asked, taking another step into the room. She looked less pissed and more confused now.

“I dunno what it looks like to you, but Lou and I are currently trying to figure out how to get the money for the audition in two months,” Tony said. He sat up and looked at Gemma with concern in his eyes. “I thought about going back to work.” Tony sounded defeated now.

“No, Tony. You’re not going back. Not after everything.” Gemma’s voice was loud and determinant.

“But Gems. He could be a star, for all we know,” Tony said while getting up.

Gemma caught him by the arm and forcefully pulled him out of Louis’ room.

“We’ll find a way. Don’t you worry lad. ‘All out together, all out as one.’ Remember?” Louis heard her say while they disappeared in the kitchen.

Louis still wasn’t completely comprehending what just happened until Harry made a loud shrieking noise and threw himself on top of Louis, laughing.

They laughed until they were breathless and exhausted. Then they were just lying on the bed, Louis’s head resting on Harry’s tummy.

“You know, I’m glad you’re getting another chance, but I’m also kinda sad, because you’ll be leaving, is all,” Harry said, gently. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Louis answered, turning his head to the side so that he could see Harry's face.

“You know, you oughta send your sketch pad to one of those fancy art schools they have there. And then they’ll take you, and you could come to London, too,” Louis said, smiling up at Harry. “You’ll study fashion design and I’ll study dance, and we’ll live in a beautiful tiny flat in the center of London.” Louis could feel Harry huff out a breath at that.

He looked up at Harry again and their eyes met. They both smiled and Louis had the distinctive urge to cuddle closer to Harry and give him a kiss. Not just on the cheek, but on the lips.

He closed his eyes again and tried to think about something else.

_~*~_

The cafeteria was packed and loud. Not that it had ever been different, or that Louis would be able to hate it any less if it was less packed and quiet. It was the first day after Christmas break and everyone had a lot to talk about. The experience was anything but enlightening.

Suddenly Harry kicked him in the shin. When Louis looked up from where he’d been poking his spinach he saw that Debbie was walking towards them followed by two brunette girls, who looked almost identical to each other and her, ponytails bouncing.

Louis put his spoon down. He’d almost forgotten he had a girlfriend. So much had happened over the past few months and they’d always rarely seen each other out of school anyways, so he hadn’t been surprised to not hear anything from her over the holidays.

He was surprised that she came directly toward him now, though. He wasn’t sure whether she’d play nice or throw her juice pack at him. He took in a deep breath when he realised that she wasn’t about to throw either her food or her drink at him, and she just sat down next to Harry with her tray, forcing him to scoot over.

One of her interchangeable minions looked at her wearily before she smiled at them.

“Don’t worry girls, I can handle this. See ya in history,” she said in a saccharine sweet voice before she focused on Louis.

He’d never realised how fake she sounded when talking to her girlfriends and how wrong the stretch of her lips looked when she smiled like this. She was pretty, yes, every boy wanted to be with her, but she’d decided to be with him when he became football captain.

He already guessed what would come next.

“Louis, we need to talk,” she said, though she was looking at Harry and not at him. “Does he have to be here?” she stage whispered loud enough for the next three tables to hear.

“Yes he does, Debbie. What do you want?” Louis wanted to be nice but she’d insulted his best friend. No one except him was allowed to do that.

With another sceptical look at Harry she finally made a decision an looked at Louis.

“Do you still wanna be with me? Because you don’t act like you do. We’ve been together for half a year now and all you do is ignore me! I’ve never even been to your house and I heard not a peep from you over the holidays.” Louis noticed that she started to become kinda hectic in her talking and that her voice got higher, a sure sign of her stress.

“Look, Debbie,” but he didn’t get any further because she interrupted him.

“And now I’ve heard you’re going to London! I’ve always wanted to go to London...” She paused for a moment until she realised that he wasn’t about to ask her if she wanted to come to London with him and then continued.

“Since you’re obviously not going to ask me to come with you, tell me at least why you’re going. And why you’ve been avoiding me for months. Liam says you haven’t been at football practice for months and if you’re not going to be captain next season, we can’t be together anymore. Liam wouldn’t tell me why though...”

Louis made eye contact with Harry. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Debbie about his audition. He had no means to assess her reaction, which could range from plain shock, to irritation, to a violent outburst.

But then he saw Harry nod at him encouragingly and remembered their talk. His passion isn’t his sexuality. His hobby has no gender and if he’d actually be taken, well, he’s gonna live in London, what else can he say.

“I’ve been at Madame Malik’s dance practice for the past months and I’m going to London for an audition at the Royal Ballet School.” He couldn’t keep the pride he felt at that out of his voice.  
Debbie stared at him in shock. With an abrupt movement she stood up and took a step back.

Louis had a feeling that telling her here and now had not necessarily been one of his most intelligent ideas. The feeling intensified when the kids at the tables next to them started to crane their necks to see what was happening.

“You’re dancing ballet? In Madame Malik’s class? Are you a poof?” Her voice was loud enough to attract the attention of more pupils and Louis wanted a hole to swallow him when suddenly someone put a hand on his shoulder.

“And if he were? How would that be your problem, sweetheart?” Zayn’s voice was even sweeter than Debbies had been earlier but Louis knew his eyes were shooting daggers.

“Can I sit here?” Liam slowly placed his tray next to Louis’ looking at him for an answer. Louis just nodded.

Debbie looked like she was about to have an aneurysm.

“I can’t be known as the girl who’s shagging a poof. It’s over, Louis,” she spit out and picked up her tray, staring at him and at Zayn’s hand, still on his shoulder.

“Good for you that we’re not shagging.” Was all Louis said before he picked up his juice carton and took a sip. From the corner of his eye he could see her staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

Zayn finally stepped to sit next to Harry, where she’d just sat, and gave her a little shove on his way past her, and she seemed to snap out of it. She turned, whipped her ponytail behind her and made her way to her lookalike minions.

“See you in history!” Harry called after her. She ignored him. For a moment the whole cafeteria seemed to hold its breath in shocked silence. No one seemed to want to be the first one to talk until suddenly their little quartet was laughing helplessly.

They were still all giddy two hours later on their way home, Harry telling Niall all about the dramatic breakup scene while Louis just smiled to himself.

“And then she just kinda stared when Lou said...” Harry was so excited that he missed Niall stopping at his door. When he realised it he stopped, walked back and continued the story while Louis already continued walking to his own door. He knew Harry would catch up eventually.

When he reached his door he could hear loud voices. He listened for a moment but since the voices didn’t sound angry and because he hadn’t heard Tony laugh like this in ages he entered. He saw his brother holding something that looked suspiciously like bus tickets while his granny was hugging Harry’s sister.

“Pack your bags, kiddo,” his brother all but yelled at him, “we’re going to London!

~*~

Louis was standing at the bus stop. Tony and his Nana were chatting idly with each other, Gemma standing a bit behind them, smiling at the scene before her. She’d be taking care of their Nana while they were gone, and Louis was glad that she’d offered to help.

He checked his bag one last time for his ballet shoes and when he found them, snug in their bag, he sighed in relief. His eyes wandered. The bus was supposed to come in ten minutes and Harry still wasn’t here. He’d promised he’d hurry home from school as fast as humanly possible, but the chances that he wouldn’t make it were high and they both knew it.

Last night Louis had hoped, wished, prayed to whatever deity would listen that Harry would make it. Then he’d decided that this moment was as good as any to tell his Mum about his plans, his dreams.

So he had taken the picture of her in her favourite summer dress, holding onto her straw hat so it wouldn’t fly away and told her about Madame Malik, about the dancing, about Debbie and about Harry. When he was finished it was already 2am and Louis felt properly exhausted but also relieved.

Suddenly Louis could hear someone yell his name. His head whipped around and when he saw Harry running at him, he dropped everything he was holding and sprinted towards the other boy, leaving his bag discarded on the floor.

Since neither boy had thought to slow down, their collision happened with full force. Harry stumbled and they almost fell but somehow Louis managed to hold them both until they regained their balance.

For a moment they just held the embrace, then Louis let go and stared at his feet. He was just about to say something when he heard Tony yelling his name. He turned and saw the bus driving around the corner at the end of the street. He knew it was too late to say everything he wanted to say and that he’d have to run to get it.

“Bye, Haz.” He leaned in and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek.

For a second they just looked at each other until the corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up into a little smile and washed away the stunned expression on his face.

“Bye, Lou,” he said, in the same moment Tony yelled his name again. Louis turned around and ran towards the bus that was pulling up into the curb now, grinning like a loon.

The drive was unspectacular. Louis mostly stared out of the window, clutching his Mum’s letter with both hands while Tony kept on talking. It had always been like this between the two of them.

Usually Louis was the energetic one and Tony the calm one, except for when something happened. Then suddenly Louis would start to be all calm while Tony would start to radiate nervous energy while never stopping to talk. In a way Louis found it comforting. Knowing that even though lots of things had changed, this one hadn’t.

When they finally drove into London Louis, at first, wasn’t impressed. The outskirts looked a lot like Everington, but then the houses started to get bigger and more and the city grew instead of fading out, until they were surrounded by tall buildings.

Tony grabbed the bag and even though Louis knew he was nervous, he was quiet. They went towards the info table at the bus station to figure out how to get to the Royal Ballet School.

When they finally got on the bus Louis could feel a sense of dread take him over. He wasn’t sure why he’d never doubted his abilities before but right now, looking at this big, impossible city, he felt so small and so incredibly dumb.

How could a boy from Durham possibly be good and individual enough to get into the Royal Ballet School? Suddenly it seemed impossible and Louis felt like a fool.

When the bus stopped at an ancient looking building Louis felt his heart beating faster than it had ever before. Later he would tell anyone that in that moment if Tony hadn’t dragged him off the bus he wouldn’t have gotten up.

In reality he felt like storming out the bus and running home into the safety of Harry’s arms.

The whole way from the bus station to the changing room was a blur. He was somewhat aware of a secretary showing them the way and telling him to wait until his name was called.

Quietly he put on his ballet clothes and started to warm up his feet and legs with a few plies and tendus. When they still hadn’t called for him ten minutes later, he started to stretch some more and also warm up his hack and arms.

He was just working his back arch doing something Madame Malik liked to call the ‘cobra’ when he heard the secretary call his name.

He got up and when she gave him an encouraging nod he walked through the enormous gate she held open for him. He entered the biggest and most professional looking ballet hall he’d ever seen.

The ceilings were high, the windows reached all the way from one side of the hall the the other and the mirrors were smooth and showed everything in realistic proportions.

Louis took his surroundings in for a moment, so in awe that he didn’t notice the table to his right.

When he heard someone clearing their throat, he finally turned around and saw the jury who would judge his performance.

All four jurors had serious faces and looked like they had no passion whatsoever in their bodies. The three women and two men looked all like they’d all just bitten into a piece of lemon. Possibly the same lemon, judging by the slight hint of disgust around their edges.

The secretary, who Louis hadn’t realised had entered the ballet hall behind him put his record on the record player and looked at him questioningly. He walked a bit back and brought himself into his start position. He took to deep breaths and nodded at the secretary.

He let the first few beats wash over him, then he let his body take over, forgetting about the audition, about the jurors, about school, his brother, the money and himself.

He became one with the music and did what felt right.

He danced.

When he finished and slowly looked up the expressions on the faces of the jury hadn’t changed, he gave them a small bow and left. In the changing room, it hit him. They hadn’t reacted at all. There was no emotion on their faces. Not a single one. Suddenly he felt like crying.

He had failed. They would never accept him here. He just wasn’t good enough, had started too late, didn’t have enough talent.

Frustratedly, he punched the wall next to him and grit his teeth together.

When he pulled his trousers on, he thought maybe it wasn’t so bad that they wouldn’t take him. He would become a miner, like Tony, like his dad. He would never leave Everington and this one trip would be the most exciting thing he’d ever done. Something to tell his grandchildren about.

If he’d ever have some. He thought of Harry. If he wasn’t accepted in the Royal Ballet School, he would go back to Harry, and maybe he could finally kiss him the way he’d wanted to since hat cheek kiss on Christmas.  Maybe they would be good. Despite everything,

Louis was so wrapped up in his little daydream he almost didn’t hear the secretary call for him again. When he went back into the hall he saw Tony already standing there looking more uncomfortable and out of place than Louis had ever seen him.

He turned to Louis and gave him a tense smile.

“They want to talk to you for a moment,” he hesitated for a moment than he added “if you want me to leave, that’s fine.”

Louis swallowed hard, Tony had never been the sensible kind of guy, but he also knew Louis better than everyone else. To his own surprise, Louis shook his head.

“Mr. … Tomlinson, is it, right?” One of the Jurors asked.

Louis nodded.

“We only have one question for you.”

Louis stared at her and thought that this couldn’t be a good sign.

“This can’t be a good sign,” he heard Tony whisper behind him. He made a warning gesture in his direction and stepped a bit forward.

“Try and answer this: what does it feel like, when you’re dancing?” A dainty woman with brown hair and a french accent asked him.

For a second Louis was confused. This was not one of the questions he’d anticipated. He opened his mouth and closed it again. For a moment he thought about it and then he just looked her straight in the eye and tried.

“I- I can't really explain it. I haven't got the words. It's a feeling that you can't control.

I suppose it's like forgetting? Like losing who you are and at the same time something makes you whole.

“It’s like that there's a music, playing in my ear and I'm listening… I’m listening, and then I disappear. And then I feel a change, like a fire deep inside. Something bursting me wide open, impossible to hide.

“It's a bit like being angry, it's a bit like being scared, confused and all mixed up and mad as hell! It's like when you've been crying and you're empty, and you're full. I don't know what it is, it's hard to tell!

“And the music that’s playing in my ear is now impossible to hear but then I feel it move me and suddenly I'm flying… flying like a bird. Like electricity that sparks inside of me and I'm free.

“I think, it’s like Electricity.”

~*~

It’d been almost two months since they came back from London. School had been a drag. Now that everyone knew Louis did ballet, the kids at school had become downright cruel.

It wasn’t that they outright bullied him, because he was hanging out with the football crowd.

But since their friendship circles had merged, the cool ballet kids and the chill footie guys had realised that they had very similar interests and that they got along splendidly, Louis could feel a kind of strange distance to all his other classmates.

Every time none of his footie or ballet friends were around it became especially prominent, because nobody seemed to actually want to talk to him.

Louis didn’t care much, though. He still spent all the lunch breaks with Harry, just like they always had, and they still walked home from school every day.

Walking home from school on a particular sunny wednesday in May, Louis and Harry could see Tony standing in front of their house, bouncing up and down and waving with something.

Louis and Harry looked at each other and started to run simultaneously. As soon as they reached Tony, Louis snatched the envelope from him.

Behind Tony, Nana was standing in the doorway, looking slightly confused but smiling. Louis stormed past her and sat down on his bed.

For a while he just stared at it, considering the possibilities. If they’d taken him, he’d go to London, leave all his friends and family here and he’d be all on his own. But he’d be able to become a dancer and live his dream.

If they had not taken him, his dream of being a professional dancer was naught, and he would have to become a miner just like his brother and father before him. Yet he would have given his best. He would have tried to get his dream and, far more important, he would not have to leave Harry behind. Louis wasn’t sure he’d be ready to leave without him.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He ripped the envelope open and stared at the letter.

When he left his room Harry and Tony were staring at him. Louis started to smile and was immediately crushed in a group hug.

“I gotta go tell Nana! She’ll be thrilled!”  Tony said, letting go of Louis and and running off.

Louis had now enough free hands to wrap Harry into a full hug. They stayed there for a bit until they both started to let go, but they both stopped when they were far enough from each other that they could make eye contact.

Louis saw Harry’s eyes flicker down to his his lips and back up to his eye, where Louis held his gaze. Harry’s eyes were still blindingly green, his lashes long. He still had a few tiny freckles on his nose and his lips… His lips were still as plump and pink and beautiful as always.

When Louis realised that he was staring at Harry’s lips himself they were both already leaning in.

Suddenly there was loud crashing sound and they flinched away from each other.

Tony was almost carrying Nana into the room who looked like she was crying from happiness.

“My little Louis is going to be a professional dancer,” she said, smiling through her tears. Eagerly she stepped towards Louis, who almost started to cry, too.

On Sunday the next week, Louis was standing at the bus stop saying goodbye to his friends and family. He spent an extraordinary time getting showered with affection and good tips on how to get along on his own by his Nana and Gemma. Then he was crushed in a group hug by Harry, Niall, Liam and Zayn, who let go of him pretty soon, except for Harry, whose hug seemed to linger.

When Harry finally let go, Tony stepped forward. For a moment, Louis and Tony just kinda stared at each other. There were a thousand different emotions showing on Tony’s face, and when he eventually hugged Louis, it didn’t feel like ‘goodbye’ it felt like ‘I love you and I'll miss you’. Louis hugged back with the same force.

When the bus arrived, they let go, and Tony got both bags and carried them to the luggage stowage. Louis was already following him when he realised he couldn’t leave like this. Not after what had happened on Christmas and after what had almost happened two weeks ago.

Louis turned around, his gaze instinctively finding Harry and he ran. He crushed his best friend, the person he loved the most in this whole world, in a hug. Then he pulled back slowly, his eyes flickering between Harry's eyes and lips.

He let them linger on Harry’s lips after a few seconds in silent invitation and leaned forward a bit, leaving the last few centimetres for Harry to close.

Harry didn’t hesitate and closed the gap between them. Harry’s lips were dry and soft, fitting perfectly on Louis lips.

He drew back again and opened his eyes, searching for Harry’s expression. They smiled at each other and Louis couldn’t help but lean forward.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered into Harry’s ear, and ran back to the bus.

Tony was holding his hand up and running past him, Louis also lifted his hand for a high five. Entering the almost empty bus he walked back to the last row of seats and turned around, looking back at the people he loved.

He could see Liam, Zayn and Niall all hugging each other, Gemma cuddling his Nana, and to his surprise, Tony was standing behind Harry, his arms crossed on the boys head.

They were all waving at him and he waved back until they were out of sight, but he didn’t turn around. Even after they had disappeared behind a block of houses, he still remained staring out of the back window of the bus, not yet ready to face the imminent future.

~*~ _  
_ Harry was nervous. The train was late, the platform was filled with people either waiting for the train or, like him, waiting for people on the train. Next to him a sound mother tried desperately to calm down her admittedly very tiny baby which was also very upset and hence very loud.

He waited for the child to open its eyes and look at him, and when it finally did, he smiled and tipped his head to the side. His curls bounced like he knew they would and the baby stared, mouth open, crying forgotten. He tipped his head back, curls bouncing and the baby giggled a bit, making grabby hands at him. He gave the baby another smile and looked up at the big clock.

It was late. There’d be no time to take the underground to their flat now before they’d have to be at the theatre he thought sadly. Maybe if they hailed a cab?

Just when he tried to figure out the time the cab would need to get to their flat and to the Royal Opera House and how much it would cost he could feel the attention of the crowd around him shift. He looked up and saw the train slowly nearing the platform. He looked up at the clock again. Maybe if they ran...

The train came to an halt with a loud screeching sound and suddenly it was pandemonium. People were getting out of the train while their friends and family on the platform started to run around looking for them. New passengers were gathering their belongings pressing towards the open train doors, still spilling the trains former passengers.  

Harry got on his tiptoes, searching the newly arrived for a familiar face. He was larger than most people on the platform, but it didn’t help much because of the bulky hats many men were wearing. He made a mental note to make a collection of smart looking hats with smaller brims, like the fedoras that had been in style during the twenties. Yeah, bringing those back into fashion would be a challenge he’d gladly accept.

Suddenly, he saw familiar broad shoulders and messy brown hair he’d recognise anywhere. He started to grin and wave making his way into the man's direction.

“Tony! Hey man,” When Tony turned around he looked exactly like when Harry had last seen him. When he spotted Harry a big grin spread over his face.

He almost crushed him in his bear hug.

“Hey kid. How are ya?” Harry giggled and then he remembered the time.

“All good! But we’re in a bit of a hurry so we gotta run to catch the train to our apartment. Luckily, we live right next to a tube station and from there it’s just two stops to the theatre,” he said, while letting go of his friend. He tried to pick up Tony’s duffle bag but he was quicker.

“Let me carry that. I have more muscles than you, you little artiste.” Harry looked mock offended at him but after another quick glance at the clock he decided there wasn’t enough time to fight Tony now, so he just grabbed his arm and they started running.

Thirty eight minutes later they were running up the stairs of the Royal Opera House, waving with their tickets at the tally clerk who just laughed at them and pointed them at the direction their seats were in. When they reached the door to the stalls, another tally clerk inspected their tickets, and then walked them to their seats.

Tony looked a little shocked at that, but Harry assured him that it was normal in fancy theatres that the staff shows you to your seat when you’re late or important.

With that he grinned and looked at the young man, while Tony already sat down.

“Will you tell mister Tomlinson that his family is here?” Harry said. His request was accepted with a nod and they were left alone to arrange themselves.

When Harry sat down he heard a very loudly hissed “Hey” from the side and when he looked he saw Niall, Liam and Zayn sitting next to Tony, who looked utterly confused, grinning.

Tony looked at him and whispered, “everyone is here,” and Harry could see that he was tearing up in the light that was being dimmed. He smiled and focused on the stage.

~*~

Louis was blindly working his feet. He’d warmed up just a few minutes ago but it gave him something to do. He knew that the dance of the big swans was the one right before his entrance. He was nervous.

Not necessarily because of the performance. Yes, it was a big one, his debut as the star of the Royal Ballet and also his final exam for the Royal Ballet School, but he didn’t know if his brother had made it, and he was stressed.

Tony had called earlier this month, assuring him he’d be there. But what if the train was late? If there had been an accident? If something went wrong with the tickets he’d so carefully put in an envelope and told Harry not to loose?

Carefully, he concentrated on breathing in and out while massaging his calves. Everything would be alright. He trusted Harry to manage everything and be at the theatre on time with his brother, looking like it had been nothing.

The dance of the big swans was almost finished and Louis knew he’d had to get up and ready soon, or he’d miss his cue.

He went for a final backstretch before he’d get up and run out when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

One of the techies — was he called Sasha? Louis was pretty sure all the sound techies were called Sasha — smiled down at him, clipboard in hand, his headset on a bit lopsided.

“Mr. Tomlinson? I’m supposed to tell you that your brother and your boyfriend arrived.” Louis got up, and with a smile, he made his way to take the stage when he heard the final bars of the dance before his solo.

Tonight, he would be a star. Tonight, all he’d do is shine.


End file.
